


and then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like "i love you"

by shomarus



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 19:46:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16750441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shomarus/pseuds/shomarus
Summary: fifty sentence-based microfics.





	and then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like "i love you"

**Author's Note:**

> not chronological. some sentences are kinda fucky, hence the mature warning. something quick and easy for me to try to ease myself back into writing—i have a few carol stuff on the backburner! 
> 
> thank you for reading.

#1 - Comfort.

It’s a rather comfortable sort of routine that they’ve fallen into, Therese thinks, and when she catches sight of Carol collapsed on the couch with Rindy, she thanks the universe for setting her on this path.

 

#2 - Kiss.

Carol pulls her aside for a moment, and they are so disconnected from the world that nobody notices when the whisper in Therese’s ear turns into a touch of lips towards the end.

 

#3 - Soft.

Golden in the light, like rays of sunshine; Therese runs her fingers through Carol’s hair with wonder, and marvels in the feathery-light touch.

 

#4 - Pain.

It gets harder as the years grow longer—Carol spends more and more time staring out the windowsill, and Therese can only sit back and watch with half-formed tears in her eyes.

 

#5 - Potatoes.

They’d grown so used to Carol on peeling potatoes and Therese on table-setting that when the roles are switched, they stare at each other in confusion, and they laugh.

 

#6 - Rain.

“Caught under,” Carol groans with a frown, but Therese can’t quite bring herself to admit that she loves the rain, and loves even more how Carol looks in the underglow of it.

 

#7 - Chocolate.

As the last piece of chocolate is popped into Therese’s mouth, “Come and get it,” she says cheekily, inviting Carol into a kiss.

 

#8 - Happiness.

“Dad’s come to pick you up,” says Therese, so soft it could barely be mistaken for pessimism, and Carol’s happiness dims with want for being allowed the common pleasure of growing old with her child.

 

#9 - Telephone.

Carol flushes at the note Therese had left her; “Call if you need anything,” with anything underlined, a gesture so chastely inappropriate that nobody would question it save herself.

 

#10 - Ears.

It is hard to make her blush, Therese notes, but when the tips of her ears turn pink, she knows that she’s succeeded.

 

#11 - Name.

Poured out and stated so liberally, Therese is almost afraid of ruining the sanctity of her name, “Carol, Carol, Carol,” breathlessly loud.

 

#12 - Sensual.

It’s the little things—a firm squeeze to the hands, a stern gaze when she’s out of line, a low and careful “Therese,”—and she’s left crossing her legs with fervor.

 

#13 - Death.

“I… I’ll send this off to charity—I’m not sure why she included me in the will,” Therese says, angry and despaired, and Carol kisses her softly and with grief—not because Therese’s mother is dead, but because she was robbed of the love from one.

 

#14 - Sex.

Danny laughs and jabs Therese’s side, “Can’t believe you’ve never done it proper, ‘Tez!” he laughs, and the sly grin Carol gives her reduces a confident laugh into an embarrassed chuckle.

 

#15 - Touch.

Light fingers would dance over her back, and Therese might shiver with want of need, “I’m trying to work,” she’d say, and Carol would lovingly respond with, “That’s the point.”

 

#16 - Weakness.

Loving the way Carol does is weakness—so she’d been told her whole life—and yet when she watches Therese sleep in the passenger side of the car, Carol wants nothing more than to embrace it, and to take the leap.

 

#17 - Tears.

The night terrors still get her, every now and then, and Therese does her best to kiss her tears away, but that only seems to invite free-flowing rivers.

 

#18 - Speed.

Late in the morning, meeting in five, go, go, go—but don’t forget to take a moment to kiss Carol goodbye!

 

#19 - Wind.

Her hat flies away during a sudden burst of it, Carol nearly falling over backwards in an attempt to get it back (and oh, how sheepish Carol looks when she presents it to her, and how Therese smiles).

 

#20 - Freedom.

“It’s just us,” says Carol with a twinkling smile, and Therese leans in, deciding that ‘just us’ is her favourite thing in the world.

 

#21 - Life.

This is no life, hiding away from anyone who might _look_ like they know too much, and Carol’s only response is to nod sadly in agreement.

 

#22 - Jealousy.

She hates how liberal Abby is with her hands, taking Carol’s and splaying her fingers over cheeks and chest, and furthermore, Therese despises how much she hates it, for Carol is hers just as much as Carol is Abby’s.

 

#23 - Hands.

They’re softer than her own, though veined with age, and they’re the perfect temperature to keep Therese’s hands cool on summer nights.

 

#24 - Taste.

Peppermint, Therese decides after a third kiss, and grins against her lips, “You _were_ the one who ate all the candy I’d left out!”

 

#25 - Devotion.

She’s a good girl who goes to church every Sunday, and carries out His divine will whenever she can, if only so that Therese can hope that she can change His mind about them.

 

#26 - Forever.

Nothing lasts forever, Carol had once thought, but there’s a lot to look forward to with Therese, and not even the length of forever is long enough to experience it all.

 

#27 - Blood.

Carol only notices it when Therese licks the blood off her chapped lips, and reaches into her purse to give Therese her chapstick—wilfully, she chooses to ignore how red Therese gets when she accepts it.

 

#28 - Sickness.

She has all these fanciful imaginings of what he’s like at home, what he might say, things like “You _are_ sick,” with a growl in his voice, hand ready to beat her, but Therese knows she only wants to vilify him.

 

#29 - Melody.

It’s easy living, Therese thinks, hearing Carol carelessly hum the very same tune come each December.

 

#30 - Star.

Bright like the sun and starry-eyed—she’s got the kind of idealistic enthusiasm that Carol hopes never dims, for how could anyone else compare?

 

#31 - Home.

Slowly Therese notices how few things remain in her own apartment, and how many of her possessions now appear in Carol’s.

 

#32 - Confusion.

But there’s surely nothing wrong with love, Rindy thinks, for father is only mad because mother’s love is for the quiet girl with cold warmth in her eyes.

 

#33 - Fear.

They never talk about it, but it lingers at the edge of every conversation; a necessary evil.

 

#34 - Lightning.

Therese pretends to be afraid of it and Carol pretends not to be, and they spend the night talking over it with boisterous stories from an era long past and philosophical talk of things never to come.

 

#35 - Bonds.

Carol doesn’t look at the silk until she forgets about it, and then she remembers how meek Therese had been and the offer perplexes her all over again.

 

#36 - Market.

Apples for pie, bread for the lunch bags, and perhaps a rose haphazardly plucked from a stand for Carol.

 

#37 - Technology.

Outright rejection isn’t the exact term Therese would use for it, but when Carol suggests that they put a television in the living space, Therese can’t seem to muster the enthusiasm for it.

 

#38 - Gift.

Therese screws the lid onto the pot of paint and turns the canvas around, “Let’s hope I captured your likeness—it would be a horrible gift otherwise.”

 

#39 - Smile.

Though she really shouldn’t, Carol does take the time to deliver lunch to the Times herself, if for no reason other than to see Therese’s face light up at the fact that she showed at all.

 

#40 - Innocence.

Please, Carol begs, for Therese is too good and the world is too cruel, and for _her_ to be the thing that robs the light of the world from her would be a murder too heavy for Carol to take the charge.

 

#41 - Completion.

“It’s hard to get any work done when you walk around the house looking like _that_ ,” Therese says suddenly, and Carol grins for she knows her plan has worked.

 

#42 - Clouds.

Scribbled onto a post-it note attached to Carol’s lunch, “I want to stand up and shout that I love you into the clouds, so that they might carry that message on to the rest of the world.”

 

#43 - Sky.

They fall asleep under it—stars at night and drizzling rain in the morning—and Therese can’t help but to draw the comparison between stormy grey and Carol‘s eyes.

 

#44 - Heaven.

Through heaven, Therese reminds herself, just to keep her humble, for how dashing Carol looks in a hiked-up dress, with wine-coloured lipstick that would look better smeared over her face.

 

#45 - Hell.

… And hell, Therese thinks, and tries not to entertain the thought of pushing aside nosy men for too long, because Carol would think her rude for doing so, but _God,_ wouldn’t Therese like it.

 

#46 - Sun.

Therese isn’t sure if there’s a spot in Heaven for her, but seeing Carol with a halo of sunlight behind her, laughing and carefree, she can’t help but to think she’s close to it.

 

#47 - Moon.

Carol notices that she prefers quieter moments, working in pale moonlight and downing coffee in the morning; if they put on a show for the moon, then that’s fine as well.

 

#48 - Waves.

“As much as I’ve seen it, I haven’t actually,” Therese waves her hand around awkwardly, trying to find the words, and Carol smiles reassuringly, “y’know, _seen_ the ocean itself.”

 

#49 - Hair.

She doesn’t return to her regular stylist the next time she gets cut—she simply sits in the kitchen and relishes in the feeling of Carol doing it for her.

 

#50 - Supernova.

Nobody can possibly prepare themselves for the kind of feeling that Carol has when Therese says it for the first time, the curious mix of heartfelt love and fearful sickness, and all of this from the most casually-spoken three words.


End file.
